


The Sartorialist

by dianekepler



Series: Drabbles of the Commonwealth [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Humor, Innuendo, Referring to Women Like They're Pieces of Clothing, Seriously Oblique References, Swearing, The Brotherhood of Steel, You May Have To Read It More Than Once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:52:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dianekepler/pseuds/dianekepler
Summary: An old soldier of the Commonwealth shares some of his greatest hardships.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kicker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kicker/gifts).



> This will make a lot more sense to fans familiar with the Brotherhood of Steel and especially who have read Kicker's unbelievably good Red Flags and Flight Suits series. You can go through the whole amazing series or get caught up pretty quickly by reading just [one part](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5730103/chapters/13265662) of one story. 
> 
> When your fanfics start sprouting fanfics, you must be on to something.

I’m too old for this shit.

Don’t get me wrong, the kid’s great. We’re good when he lets me do my job and just goes about his beeswax like I’m not even around. I even help with his day-to-day. Lend him some gravitas, though the big brahmin in the sky knows junior’s got enough of his own.

So him doing his thing, me doing mine, yeah. That’s when we fit. But lately he’s been up to new tricks and that’s an issue.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d take a bullet for the guy — and you’d best believe I’ve done that already. Laser blasts, shrapnel, it’s all just part of the tour. Hell, patch me up and I’ll be covering his six the same day. And he never says it, but every time I save his ass he likes me a little better, trusts me a little more. It’s a trip, being needed that way.

Blood is no skin off my back either. I’ve seen plenty and he makes sure I’m never out in it for too long. He takes care of me that way.  
The problem isn’t even him. It’s those skirts and their damn fixations.

See, I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy: used to one and just one partner. So when some admirer gets too close I’d like to be able to say “take it easy” — though not like it’d help. They’d fucking find a way.

Protection’s my racket, so when one of them grabs hold of me all of a sudden, I can’t help but be all “who goes there?” They’re not always squeaky clean either. Times like that, it’d be really satisfying to yell “stick your grimy paws back in the swamp, you radroach caravaneer”. Except I never do. There’s only so much weirdness the kid would tolerate and that, my friends, would be vaulting right over the line.

Although the stuff that nearly makes me bust a seam is being called on for all those extras. I mean, do I look like a fucking picnic blanket? A settee? It doesn’t say doormat on me either and I know — I know he wouldn’t treat me that way if it wasn’t for the bobby soxers and how they fall for it every. Damn. Time.

Once, in Goodneighbor, he even handed me over to this flashy tower of sequins who — well, I won’t even tell you what she did (what they did — he was right freaking there) but it was pretty personal and when you’re used to having just one person inside of you, well … I dunno. Unbecoming, is a word you could use.

But I suck it up. Sometimes literally, but that’s another story that shouldn’t see the light of day. Sorry, I’m rambling.

Thing is, this is a cushy job. Most of the time I’m better off than 99% of the other specimens in the Commonwealth. Besides, this is temporary. The kid’ll settle down someday, which means just one set of sweater melons to deal with. I could get used to that.

Except then there’ll be real kids. Ones that spit up and drool and — aw, fuck me!


End file.
